


The Seven-Eyed Diamond

by butterflymind



Category: John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflymind/pseuds/butterflymind
Summary: A jewel, a murder, and a tale told by a somewhat confused narrator.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 16
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	1. Page 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starfishstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishstar/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note to the reader (and to any passing Yuletide mods!). This story is complete, however in honour of John Finnemore becoming one of the few people who has ever solved the Cain's Jawbone puzzle, I have provided this story in five out of order chapters. If you don't fancy playing the game, or if you're here to check this is a complete story, the entire story (1500 words) is in the last chapter in the correct order. Happy Yuletide!

_Unfortunately, the storyteller has dropped his notes on the way to the stage tonight. We think it was probably the wine, but he insists he tripped on a small robotic hedgehog that found its way onto the stage. In any case his notes have become muddled, and we supply the five pages here in the hope you can sort them out before he finishes another bottle._

* * *

“Well, since you ask me for a tale of murder.” I said, but was rudely interrupted before I could continue by the arrival of the butler.

“Where is Miss Flapper?” He asked. It was true, Miss Flapper had not joined us.

“The murderer!” I cried, and rushed off to find her. For it had just occurred to me that Miss Flapper may have been planning to steal the famous seven-eyed diamond, that our host had always kept in an unlocked drawer in his study for safe-keeping. I rushed to the study, and nearly fell over a very carelessly placed corpse.

“Murder!” I cried, and the remaining party came to join me, although I must say there were a lot less enthusiastic this time.

“Miss Flapper!” Mrs Basilton-Snow, who had just recovered from her first faint, immediately fainted again. It was true, Miss Flapper lay dead at our feet, her sightless eyes staring at nothing, her mouth open in a slight expression of surprise, and her empty hand still clutching as if it had once held a seven eyed diamond. Blood seeped from a wound on her head.

“Who could have done such a thing?” Mrs Basilton-Snow asked, having recovered briefly from her faint in order to expedite the plot.

“We must all gather in the library.” I said, leading the way downstairs. I made a brief stop to bathe, and changed from my pyjamas into a natty three piece tweed I had recently bought from Savile Row. It took longer without my host to help me in and out of my clothes and draw my bath for me, but I managed.

I emerged to find the others waiting patiently outside my room, with only a little uncouth grumbling from the back. We proceeded downstairs to Lord Crancod’s extensive library, where a fire was still roaring in the grate.

“Why have you brought us here Finnemore?” The vicar asked.


	2. Page 2

“Well, since you ask me for a tale for this wonderful evening…” I began, but we were hustled into dinner by the rude butler.

We were gathered in Lord Crancod’s house for a viewing, set for tomorrow, of his famous collection of jewels. This was to include the pride of his collection, the notorious seven-eyed diamond which he had smuggled out of somewhere far away and therefore unimportant to this story. However for tonight our time was our own, and we decided after dinner to play a game of murder. Now, if you haven’t played it before, the rules are very simple to explain. Everyone draws a name out of a hat, and one of these will declare someone the murderer. Then you all go on quite normally, until the lights go out and the murderer chooses their victim. Then you all try to solve the crime, while the police deal with the corpse. It’s a very good game, and useful if you have an elderly relative you need to be rid of.

By the end of the evening there had still not been a murder, which was extremely disappointing. But just as I was finishing dressing for bed, after my host had brought up my cocoa on a tray, the lights in my room suddenly went out. When they came back on a few moments later there was my host, dead at my feet with the seven-eyed diamond clutched in his hand. I rushed out into the corridor, having first put on my slippers and dressing gown for the night was chilly, and shouted for help. The Basilton-Snows were the first to arrive, which I found very suspicious. Mrs Basilton-Snow gasped and fainted when she saw the body, while her husband ran to find the doctor and the vicar. They arrived together, which I found more suspicious still, and asked me what had happened.


	3. Page 3

“Well, since you ask me for a tale of murder.” I began, “I think I have something you will find edifying.”

“Oh, do get on with it Finnemore.” Said the doctor. “And tell us who here is a murderer.”

“Ah yes.” I leaned in my most relaxed manner on the mantelpiece, only slightly singeing my tweeds. “Which one of us could be capable of such a heinous crime as murder most foul.”

“Yes, for God’s sake tell us who!” Mr Basilton-Snow said eagerly.

“It could be any one of us. It could be you Mr Basilton-Snow!” I pointed with my most dramatic finger. “Or it could be your dear lady wife!” I pointed with such force at Mrs Basilton-Snow that she fainted clean away. “Or it could be the good doctor. Or the vicar with the evil eye.”

“I’m just short-sighted.” Protested the vicar, evilly.

“It could even be me, your erstwhile storyteller.” I pointed at myself, narrowly avoiding a nasty poke in the eye. “It could be. But it was not!” I leapt away from the fireplace with a dramatic flourish, this also had the useful side effect of putting my trousers out.” Because...” Everyone leaned forward, except Mrs Basilton-Snow who was still leaning backwards with her eyes closed. “...They killed each other!” There was a gasp, and then an awed silence. Finally Mr Basilton-Snow spoke up.

“But that’s ridiculous!” He said, very unkindly. “How could they have killed each other? They were in different rooms.”

“Ah. But that was the trick of it. Lord Crancod surprised Miss Flapper in the act of stealing the seven-eyed diamond. They struggled, and he killed her with a blow to the head from that silver tray he always carried. But not before she had fatally wounded him with a knife. He staggered from the office to my room and collapsed, hitting the light switch on the way down. And there, he died.

“But Lord Crancod isn’t dead!” The doctor protested.

“No, I’m right here. It was my butler who died in your room.” Said the man in the corner, who I had been wondering about.

“So the butler actually did do it?” I was delighted by this development.

“ I suppose so.” Lord Crancod replied. “But how do you know what happened?”


	4. Page 4

Well, since you ask me for a story of murder, but the quaint kind that happened in olde worlde times when no-one got too upset about a bit of bumping off, I think I have one that might tickle your fancy.

I had been invited to stay at Lord Crancod’s house in North West Countyshire. I arrived late in the evening the night before Christmas eve, Lord Crancod graciously opened the door for me, and then even more generously took my coat and served us all drinks in the parlour. Lord Crancod, although a little crabby, was a gracious host. But I was most perturbed by the behaviour of his butler, who insisted on standing in a corner and drinking sherry with the rest of the party. The other guests didn’t seem to mind, so I resolved to ignore him entirely.

Among the other guests I spied Amelia Flapper, the famous beauty and jewel thief. She was wearing a beautiful satin ball gown, accented as ever with the large number of decorative knives she kept strapped across her chest. She was talking to Mr and Mrs Basilton-Snow, a very pleasant couple famous for having no distinguishing features whatsoever. The party was completed by the local doctor and the vicar, who was a funny little fellow with pince-nez and an obvious look of evil about him.

“Good evening.” I said to the assembled company. “My name is Finnemore.”

“Finnemore!” Mr Basilton-Snow said warmly, “the famous story-teller.”

“Yes that’s me.” I do like my fame to precede me.

“And will you be telling us a story this evening?” His wife asked. Her husband seemed to be trying to quiet her, which seemed odd but I ignored it.


	5. Page 5

“Well, since you ask me for a tale of how a solved a dastardly murder...”

“Yes, that’s what I was asking you.” Lord Crancod interrupted me. The man was really very rude, I was surprised he was a Lord at all.

“Since you ask me.” I started again. “I will tell you.”

“Good.” Mrs Basilton-Snow had come round.

“I first suspected Miss Flapper when the butler came into my room, moaning and clutching a large bloody knife wound in his stomach. I recognised the knife in the wound as belonging to Miss Flapper immediately.” I paused, for I can’t resist a little dramatic tension. “So when the butler gasped out ‘She killed me, but I got her first’, it was very easy to understand who he meant.” The others looked astounded, I assume at my deductive genius. “Anyhow, after that it was just a question of finding the other body.”

“So you knew all along Miss Flapper was dead?” Mr Basilton-Snow seemed very angry, for some reason I couldn’t possibly fathom. But the evil-eyed vicar put a hand on his arm.

“We should probably phone the police.”

“Yes.” Lord Crancod agreed. “Have you quite finished, Finnemore?”

“Quite finished, yes.” I leant once more upon the mantelpiece, and set fire to my other trouser leg.

* * *

Later, when the police had collected the bodies, I packed to leave that fateful room. The police had seemed very pleased with my little theory. The Chief Inspector himself said he would ‘believe anything if it helped with the clear up rates.’ Which I think was a compliment. So I left the cursed house of Lord Crancod on Christmas Eve and, patting my natty tweed pocket for the seven-eyed diamond I had put in there earlier for safe-keeping, went on my way. Goodnight!


	6. Complete Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full story, in the correct order.

Well, since you ask me for a story of murder, but the quaint kind that happened in olde worlde times when no-one got too upset about a bit of bumping off, I think I have one that might tickle your fancy. I had been invited to stay at Lord Crancod’s house in North West Countyshire. I arrived late in the evening the night before Christmas eve, Lord Crancod graciously opened the door for me, and then even more generously took my coat and served us all drinks in the parlour. Lord Crancod, although a little crabby, was a gracious host. But I was most perturbed by the behaviour of his butler, who insisted on standing in a corner and drinking sherry with the rest of the party. The other guests didn’t seem to mind, so I resolved to ignore him entirely. Among the other guests I spied Amelia Flapper, the famous beauty and jewel thief. She was wearing a beautiful satin ball gown, accented as ever with the large number of decorative knives she kept strapped across her chest. She was talking to Mr and Mrs Basilton-Snow, a very pleasant couple famous for having no distinguishing features whatsoever. The party was completed by the local doctor and the vicar, who was a funny little fellow with pince-nez and an obvious look of evil about him.

“Good evening.” I said to the assembled company. “My name is Finnemore.”

“Finnemore!” Mr Basilton-Snow said warmly, “the famous story-teller.”

“Yes that’s me.” I do like my fame to precede me.

“And will you be telling us a story this evening?” His wife asked. Her husband seemed to be trying to quiet her, which seemed odd but I ignored it.

“Well, since you ask me for a tale for this wonderful evening…” I began, but we were hustled into dinner by the rude butler. We were gathered in Lord Crancod’s house for a viewing, set for tomorrow, of his famous collection of jewels. This was to include the pride of his collection, the notorious seven-eyed diamond which he had smuggled out of somewhere far away and therefore unimportant to this story. However for tonight our time was our own, and we decided after dinner to play a game of murder. Now, if you haven’t played it before, the rules are very simple to explain. Everyone draws a name out of a hat, and one of these will declare someone the murderer. Then you all go on quite normally, until the lights go out and the murderer chooses their victim. Then you all try to solve the crime, while the police deal with the corpse. It’s a very good game, and useful if you have an elderly relative you need to be rid of.

By the end of the evening there had still not been a murder, which was extremely disappointing. But just as I was finishing dressing for bed, after my host had brought up my cocoa on a tray, the lights in my room suddenly went out. When they came back on a few moments later there was my host, dead at my feet with the seven-eyed diamond clutched in his hand. I rushed out into the corridor, having first put on my slippers and dressing gown for the night was chilly, and shouted for help. The Basilton-Snows were the first to arrive, which I found very suspicious. Mrs Basilton-Snow gasped and fainted when she saw the body, while her husband ran to find the doctor and the vicar. They arrived together, which I found more suspicious still, and asked me what had happened.

“Well, since you ask me for a tale of murder.” I said, but was rudely interrupted before I could continue by the arrival of the butler.

“Where is Miss Flapper?” He asked. It was true, Miss Flapper had not joined us.

“The murderer!” I cried, and rushed off to find her. For it had just occurred to me that Miss Flapper may have been planning to steal the famous seven-eyed diamond, that our host had always kept in an unlocked drawer in his study for safe-keeping. I rushed to the study, and nearly fell over a very carelessly placed corpse.

“Murder!” I cried, and the remaining party came to join me, although I must say there were a lot less enthusiastic this time.

“Miss Flapper!” Mrs Basilton-Snow, who had just recovered from her first faint, immediately fainted again. It was true, Miss Flapper lay dead at our feet, her sightless eyes staring at nothing, her mouth open in a slight expression of surprise, and her empty hand still clutching as if it had once held a seven eyed diamond. Blood seeped from a wound on her head.

“Who could have done such a thing?” Mrs Basilton-Snow asked, having recovered briefly from her faint in order to expedite the plot.

“We must all gather in the library.” I said, leading the way downstairs. I made a brief stop to bathe, and changed from my pyjamas into a natty three piece tweed I had recently bought from Savile Row. It took longer without my host to help me in and out of my clothes and draw my bath for me, but I managed.

I emerged to find the others waiting patiently outside my room, with only a little uncouth grumbling from the back. We proceeded downstairs to Lord Crancod’s extensive library, where a fire was still roaring in the grate.

“Why have you brought us here Finnemore?” The vicar asked.

“Well, since you ask me for a tale of murder.” I began, “I think I have something you will find edifying.”

“Oh, do get on with it Finnemore.” Said the doctor. “And tell us who here is a murderer.”

“Ah yes.” I leaned in my most relaxed manner on the mantelpiece, only slightly singeing my tweeds. “Which one of us could be capable of such a heinous crime as murder most foul.”

“Yes, for God’s sake tell us who!” Mr Basilton-Snow said eagerly.

“It could be any one of us. It could be you Mr Basilton-Snow!” I pointed with my most dramatic finger. “Or it could be your dear lady wife!” I pointed with such force at Mrs Basilton-Snow that she fainted clean away. “Or it could be the good doctor. Or the vicar with the evil eye.”

“I’m just short-sighted.” Protested the vicar, evilly.

“It could even be me, your erstwhile storyteller.” I pointed at myself, narrowly avoiding a nasty poke in the eye. “It could be. But it was not!” I leapt away from the fireplace with a dramatic flourish, this also had the useful side effect of putting my trousers out.” Because...” Everyone leaned forward, except Mrs Basilton-Snow who was still leaning backwards with her eyes closed. “...They killed each other!” There was a gasp, and then an awed silence. Finally Mr Basilton-Snow spoke up.

“But that’s ridiculous!” He said, very unkindly. “How could they have killed each other? They were in different rooms.”

“Ah. But that was the trick of it. Lord Crancod surprised Miss Flapper in the act of stealing the seven-eyed diamond. They struggled, and he killed her with a blow to the head from that silver tray he always carried. But not before she had fatally wounded him with a knife. He staggered from the office to my room and collapsed, hitting the light switch on the way down. And there, he died.

“But Lord Crancod isn’t dead!” The doctor protested.

“No, I’m right here. It was my butler who died in your room.” Said the man in the corner, who I had been wondering about.

“So the butler actually did do it?” I was delighted by this development.

“ I suppose so.” Lord Crancod replied. “But how do you know what happened?”

“Well, since you ask me for a tale of how a solved a dastardly murder...”

“Yes, that’s what I was asking you.” Lord Crancod interrupted me. The man was really very rude, I was surprised he was a Lord at all.

“Since you ask me.” I started again. “I will tell you.”

“Good.” Mrs Basilton-Snow had come round.

“I first suspected Miss Flapper when the butler came into my room, moaning and clutching a large bloody knife wound in his stomach. I recognised the knife in the wound as belonging to Miss Flapper immediately.” I paused, for I can’t resist a little dramatic tension. “So when the butler gasped out ‘She killed me, but I got her first’, it was very easy to understand who he meant.” The others looked astounded, I assume at my deductive genius. “Anyhow, after that it was just a question of finding the other body.”

“So you knew all along Miss Flapper was dead?” Mr Basilton-Snow seemed very angry, for some reason I couldn’t possibly fathom. But the evil-eyed vicar put a hand on his arm.

“We should probably phone the police.”

“Yes.” Lord Crancod agreed. “Have you quite finished, Finnemore?”

“Quite finished, yes.” I leant once more upon the mantelpiece, and set fire to my other trouser leg.

* * *

Later, when the police had collected the bodies, I packed to leave that fateful room. The police had seemed very pleased with my little theory. The Chief Inspector himself said he would ‘believe anything if it helped with the clear up rates.’ Which I think was a compliment. So I left the cursed house of Lord Crancod on Christmas Eve and, patting my natty tweed pocket for the seven-eyed diamond I had put in there earlier for safe-keeping, went on my way. Goodnight!


End file.
